


The Greatest Love Story Never Told

by Manysidesofmyself



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious!Sherlock - Freeform, Romance, Soft!John, They are just so in love, overwhelmed!Sherlock, pinning, post- series 3, soft!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manysidesofmyself/pseuds/Manysidesofmyself
Summary: Since moving back to Baker Street after the whole ordeal with Mary, John had not yet come to terms with all of it enough to talk about it, but that was about to change. There had been enough left unsaid between Sherlock and John and it was time for fate to correct that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all my dear friends in this god forsaken fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=all+my+dear+friends+in+this+god+forsaken+fandom).



> aka our boys get the ending they deserve.

Pale light seeped through the curtains on an ordinary Sunday morning. The street, less busy than usual. A calming silence fell on the dusty flat. Sherlock sat on his armchair pretending to write on his blog. Truth was, he couldn't stop thinking about what John had said to him yesterday.

 

 

John was about to go down to the pub to have a pint with Lestrade. Sherlock, locked away in his bedroom, pretended he didn't care.

"I'm off then..." John called from the door. "If ya need anything, text me."

Sherlock didn't answer and he heard John put on his coat and close the door to 221B.

They hadn't been on cases yet since John's return, not because they didn't want to. Sherlock had been dedicating his time to observing John and properly assess how okay he was with being back to Baker Street. So far John hadn't shown any indication of feeling uncomfortable or out of place. In fact, he hadn't even mentioned the incident, if anything, he seemed happier now, more disposed. Sherlock thought it was odd, but decided it was better to let John express himself the way he thought more suitable.

If he wanted to go out and have a pint with Lestrade, so be it. If he came home with a date, and he probably would as it was his m.o. to ignore whatever was bothering him by drinking and having sex with strangers, then Sherlock would try to cry as quietly as possible and pretend everything was okay. Anything to keep John, really.

So it was quite a surprise to him when John came home alone that night.

"I'm back." he called from the living room.

Sherlock popped out of his bedroom.

"Oh, there you are..." said John, hanging his coat and toeing off his shoes. "I ddin't know if you heard me when I went out. You alright?"

"You're alone." Sherlock noticed.

John furrowed his brow. "Yeah...?"

Sherlock straightened his back, cleared his throat and blinked a few times. "Wasn't expecting you to be alone."

"Ooookay..." John drawled out, confused

Sherlock took a few steps in his direction, watched him more closely. "Why did you not bring anyone here? Why did you come home alone?"

John blushed slightly. Why was he blushing? He didn't have any reason to blush. Did he? Maybe it was the fact that Sherlock had pointed out his drinking habbits. Maybe that was still a sensitive topic.

 

"No... I ddin't bring anyone home." John stated dumbly. "Listen, I just went down to the pub to have a pint and relax a bit. Why would you assume I-" he broke off. Something crossed his face. "I... I don't intend to bring anyone home from any pub."

Oh. Right. The divorce was still recent and John probably thought it was too soon to start dating again. "Yes. Yes, of course. I mean... I shouldn't have assumed... especially after..." Sherlock was rambling and John cleared his throat loudly.

"I'm not going to bring anyone home. Ever." he licked his lips, eyebrows raised.

Sherlock blinked a few more times. Why would John not want to date ever again? Surely he was being dramatic. He would move on eventually and leave Sherlock. Again. That was the natural course of things. John goes to the pub, picks up some woman, brings her home, they start dating. Sherlock estimated it would take about three months for that to happen and for John to decide to leave. And then he would be broken again, he would bleed and die a thousand deaths, but John would be happy.

"I... I don't understand..." he blinked again.

"Well, that's new." John gave him a lopsided smile. It made his stomach do backflips.

How charming John could be without even noticing. Sherlock could die from just that smile. That couldn't be true, but he felt like it was possible.

"You don't have to worry about me, John, if that's what's holding you back. I promise I'm off... whatever it is I was on, back then..." he feels desperately ashamed. He knows how it upsets John to talk about his drug use, didn't want to bring it up, but John has to know that he's allowed to be happy.

"It's not... How can you be so thick... GOD!" John seemed exasperated. He paced around, his hands at his hips. "I'm not leaving, because _I don't want to leave_. I don't want to move out and live in another flat. I don't to be away from you."

_I don't want to be away from you._

John didn't want to be away from him.

Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. John. _John_ , didn't want to be away from _him_. What kind of parallel universe had he slipped into? What ever had he done to deserve that? He felt his eyes sting a bit. Oh no, not crying in front of John.

"Erm... okay then. I-I mean... that's... good. Thank you...?" he mumbled and almost ran, back to his room.

John must have thought he was an idiot.

After a few minutes he heard John go upstairs and that was the end of the night. Not that Sherlock could sleep, but he wouldn't have to face John until the morning, at least.

Now here he was, sitting in the living room, pretending to write something on his blog, while he waited for John to wake up. What would he say? Would John try to go back to that conversation? Should _he_ say anything? There were footsteps on the stairs. Too late to figure that out.

In came a sleepy John. Sherlock could swear he could hear his heart clench. John's hair was all mussed, his loose pyjama pants showing just a bit of the skin under his navel. His ragged t-shirt, pulled to one side. John looked devastatingly _soft_. Sherlock's mouth went dry and he thought he would never be able to recover from that sight.

" Mornin'..." John slurred, dragging his feet to the kitchen. "Gon make a cuppa. D'ya fancy one?"

Sherlock swallowed. "Yes, please."

John simply smiled. What had happened that made those smiles the worst of weapons against Sherlock? They disarmed him, made him feel weak in the knees. That didn't even make sense!

Sherlock cleared his throat. "About... about yesterday... that thing you said..."

John didn't turn, but hummed in understanding.

"That was... I mean... I don't want you to leave either. If that ever crossed your mind. I... I think this arrangement we have is very satisfactory."

There, way to let out the words. Great work. John probably thought he had been hit in the head during the night.

A few minutes passed. Both of them were silent.

"I'm glad you think the same way." answered John, finally, warm cuppa in hand. He walked into the living room and handed Sherlock his. Their fingers brushed slightly. "I'm glad to know you don't want to be away from me either." John's eyes were impossibly bluer and they were staring right into his very soul. Sherlock felt as if he could dissolve.

"Yes... that's... that's what I said," he tried to make sense of things while the air had apparently been sucked out of his lungs.

John put his cup on the side table. "Sherlock," his voice sounded serious. He had Sherlock's full attention, obviously. "I've... I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

Great! He had probably done something that upset John. Maybe it was the mould culture in the bathroom sink. It could be that it was his turn to make tea and he had forgotten all about it.

John leaned forward. "I have no intentions to bring anyone back home from pubs. I don't want to date anyone that... anyone that isn't... oh God... can't you just figure it out? I thought you _knew_... I thought I had been fairly obvious."

Sherlock blinked, confused. Was he supposed to know why John didn't want to bring women over? He didn't want to date anyone that isn't... what? To Sherlock's liking? Anyone that Sherlock thought was too dull, or anyone Sherlock would probably call an idiot? But people were all idiots.

John let out an exasperated breath. "You really don't know?" he looked incredulous. " _How_ can you not know?"

"Well, John, I'm sorry if it wasn't clear to me that you needed some sort of approval on the people you date. I can assure you I have nothing against your type of women. Feel free to bring home whoever pleases you..."

"Sherlock," John called and suddenly there were a pair of warm hands cupping his jaw. Sherlock felt his cheeks catch on fire. How was it possible for someone to be so warm? "I don't want to date anyone that isn't... you." 

That couldn't be right. He should have done that check up John was so insistent on scheduling. He couldn't be hearing right.

John smiled and his face was all soft lines. The way his eyes looked adoringly at Sherlock, the way his nose wrinkled at the sides, the way the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. John was the sun and Sherlock was flying too close.

"I haven't wanted anyone since that day you made me cross half of London just to text a murderer." his voice was low and intimate. Sherlock was having trouble breathing. "I killed a man for you that very first night. I was afraid I had shown my hand rather quickly, but you never caught on. How could you not know how I felt?" John's thumb brushed against his cheek. "How could you not feel how much I adored you back then. How can you not see how much I love you, right now?"

Suddenly John's face went out of focus, blurried. Something warm was streming from Sherlock's eyes. John. John _loved_ him. John Watson loved Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh, Sherlock..." John's hands ran to Sherlock's shoulders, then they were on his back, tracing small circles. Sherlock's face was buried in the crook of John's neck. That smell, God, he could write sonnets about that smell. "Shhh, I've got you, love,"

He wasn't able of coherent speech anymore. All his senses, all his soul, each and every cell of his body screamed for John.

"I can't believe you really thought I'd gone to the pub to pick up women." John chuckled and moved away, holding Sherlock at arm's length. "I need you to know... what happened before... I thought I had lost you forever, after... I thought you were... but then you came back! Dear God, I wanted to rip your clothes off on that damned restaurant. I had completely forgotten about Mary. You have no idea how much I wanted her to stop existing that very instant. But I couldn't do that, Sherlock... I was too broken... I thought I was doing what was best for... for all of us. I thought you didn't care about me."

"How could I not care about you John?" his voice finally came back. John's face was a mix of anguish and relief. "Even if I didn't love you as absurdly as I do, I would still care about you."

"So... you love me, eh?" John grinned.

Sherlock thought he might actually combust. "Oh John..." was all he managed to say before tears anew stung his cheeks.

John's arms were around him once again. "Shh... don't worry, love. I'm here now. We're here now. Took us long enough!" he chuckled.

"Tell me more... tell me how you felt... all this time." Sherlock's voice was merely a whisper. He could feel John smile widely.

"When we first met, back at Barts, my first thought was that you were stunning. The most beautiful human being I had ever seen." Shelock chuckled softly. "No, it's true. And then you deduced all about me like I was an open book just waiting to be read. I was blown away! That first day I knew I was doomed. Then you said you were married to your work and I thought that was it for me. But I couldn't just stay away... I thought about sending you a text saying I wasn't up for the flat sharing or something, but you... oh Sherlock, you hooked me. I loved you then. I loved you so much I couldn't keep it in. I shot the cabbie because I was terrified of losing you! And then there was Moriarty. I honestly thought you were in love with him. And The Woman... God knows how I wanted her to evaporate! Every damn time I tried talking to you about... _this_... she magically appeared! And then... well... you know what came next." Sherlock sobbed lowly and John exhaled. "I wanted to tell you then too. On that bloody phone call. I wanted to say the words, but I never could. Then there was Mary and everything went to shite! I didn't want to be with her, but I thought it was the right thing to do, until she shot you. I couldn't stay after that, Sherlock. I thought I had lost you again." John's voice cracked. "I've wanted to tell you so many times... it never felt like the right time, though... I wanted to say the words... I wanted to say them to you... like _this_..." he trailed off and moved away again, this time taking Sherlock's face in his hands. Then John kissed him.

John's lips met his and nothing else mattered. Time stopped. He thought to himself, _it can't be like the movies_. Time can't actually stop. But there was no other logical explanation for how he was feeling. Sherlock's entire being melted and exploded, his mouth tingling where his lips met John's. He couldn't fathom how his body could be doing all that and not doing any of it at the same time. It was too much, not enough! He commited every single feature of it to memory. He never wanted to forget how John tasted like, the texture of his lips, the warmth of his breath.

They just stayed like that. John's lips moving softly against his, kissing every corner, every bit. It was like they didn't know how to be anything other than each other's.

They didn't need to know. Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this and I just wanted to say one more time: WHO WE ARE MATTERS!


End file.
